


The Mortal's Turn

by Taylande



Series: Of Wolves and Ravens [1]
Category: World of Warcraft, World of Warcraft - Various Authors
Genre: A new one my dudes, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I'm doing humans this time instead of elves, Let's pray to fucking god I can actually write this time, Light Angst, Other, Should be some funny bits here and there, This is gonna be different, go me, just a warning, oh boi, yaaaaay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2020-10-12 15:56:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20566985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taylande/pseuds/Taylande
Summary: Gilneas is walling itself off and the Kingdom of Alterac has allowed greenskinned monsters known as orcs into their home. In the aftermath of the Second War, the Petrovsky family is caught between staying or leaving. The Bishopps lose what is dearest to them. In this tale, Hugin Bishopp, Ivan Petrovsky, and Knight Aeva Petrovsky reveal their origins before being caught in the shadow of the Silverblades. Hear how their origins led them to who they became.When ravens fly...





	1. Alterac

Snowflakes drifted down and settled gently on the noses of those within Alterac City. The children ran around, played in the snow, getting into fights. As all children did. Men and women pushing carts of preserved meats, frozen vegetables, linens, a great many things, roamed around. They all looked for somewhere to sell, to set up a stall, or do whatever they could to make some coin. 

After the war, those in Alterac were uneasy after hearing how Stormwind to the south had fallen. Great, large, green-skinned monster riding on the backs of wolves even larger than those in Alterac. Orcs, they called themselves. Those things had defeated Stormwind. Now those refugees of Stormwind lived scattered throughout Lordaeron, Alterac, and so on. 

But war had found the human nations once again. These orcs had returned. They were now closer than they ever had been to Alterac. 

“I don’t care, Kristofer! We should stay here and trust what King Perenolde says,” the woman ranted. 

Kristofer turned to stare at her incredulously. Orcs were returning. The Alliance was scattered across the continent. And here, she said they should stay and wait in Alterac. “Catherine, we can’t stay here! What happens when word gets out to Terenas of Lordaeron? We’d be safer in Lordaeron, Gilneas, anywhere but here!”

“You know I left Gilneas for a reason! I am _not_ returning there! I’d rather be here with these greenskins than back in that place under Greymane’s rule!” Catherine lashed out. She glared daggers at Kristofer, almost daring him to say more. “Why would you ever talk of going back there?”

Kristofer opened his mouth to reply. Before he could speak, their eldest son, Ivan wandered out. “Ma, dad? What’s going on?” he asked warily. Though only eleven years old, he could pick up on the mood of the room faster than even some adults. “I was just gonna ask if I could play with the Farthing boys but then--”

“Your mother and I were just discussing if we should leave for Lordaeron or not,” Kristofer hastily answered. “What would you and the girls say to that?” 

Ivan only shrugged. He didn’t particularly care where they lived, as long as it meant he could enjoy himself.

“Well… Cath, maybe we should discuss this later. When the girls are back from Wanda’s little ice-fishing excursion,” Kristofer suggested. “Ivan, go on and have fun. But be back before nightfall! You know how we--”

“I know, don’t stay out too late otherwise Perenolde’s greenskins will get me.” 

Ivan left the house in a flurry of movement. First from the coat rack, then to the stairs leading to the lower levels of their home, and then the door slamming shut. Catherine couldn’t help but giggle at how eagerly their eldest rushed out to play in the snow with the other children. A nagging sense of dread ate at the back of her mind, though, as she wondered whether or not he would be safe in Alterac. Perhaps her husband was right.

Kristofer turned to her again, a glare outlining his features. “You leave Gilneas. You come here, end up settling down with me. Then I turn around a couple years after Ivan’s and Wanda's births and you’ve gone and got yourself pregnant! With an _elf’s_ child, no less! I let that pass, we raise her and keep her here. Then this same elf comes back, gives it to you _again_ and I just-- Light, what is it you even want?” 

Catherine flinched at his biting words. “I told you. It wasn’t willingly. He used his magic to--”

“To make you more willing to his advances, yeah, yeah. I’ve heard it a thousand times! Still, magic or no, you’ve made up for it despite people telling me to leave you for your disloyalty. But now you want to make me the bad one. I’m leaving with or without you, Cat. I’m not staying somewhere infested with those brutes,” Kristofer continued.

Catherine reached her arm out and rested a petite hand on her husband’s shoulder. “But what about our children?” she asked. Her eyes pleaded with him to reconsider, to stay here. “What will I tell them when their father disappears from their lives?” 

Kristofer looked back at her, then sighed. “Like I said earlier, I’ll ask them all when they’ve arrived back for supper tonight. Mix up a nice stew, I’ve got rabbit to go with it.” Kristofer shook the hand off his shoulder and turned towards the door. “Now, I’m going to petition Perenolde and his council. See if they’ll let me leave on the basis of studying under this order of ‘paladins,’ whatever they are.” 

He grabbed a thick, wolfskin cloak and threw it around his shoulders. The greys, whites, and blacks intermingled. Catherine watched him stride out into the biting chill of Alterac. As the door creaked to a close, she found her way to a window, watching her husband depart. Tears welled up in her eyes as his words raced through her mind. It seemed nearly every day he indirectly accused her of cheating on him. Whether he believed it or not, she couldn’t tell. 

As Kristofer disappeared into the distance towards the Perenolde “Castle” (it was more similar to a small military keep), she slowly lost sight of him. The wolfskin cloak began to blend him in with the surrounding brush and snow of their home.

Perhaps Kristofer was right in that they should leave Alterac. Perhaps it would be best for their children. But that would be a talk for later that night, when their children were home with them.

~~~~~

Little two-year-old Alexis waddled in through the door behind Wanda. A year behind Ivan in age, Wanda had already taken it upon herself to be the best big sister she could be for her half-elven sisters. Aeva sauntered in with a large grin on her face and seated herself next to her father at the table. Her eyes widened at the sight. Bowls of steaming vegetable stew with rabbit, fresh off the spit, and with yesterday’s leftover bread. 

Ivan’s mouth hung open at the feast laid out before them. “Ma, is there any kind of dessert to go with?” he wondered aloud. His eyes roamed over each bit of food laid out on the table. He knew he would eat like a king this night. Tomorrow he would brag to the Farthing brothers.

"No, I'm sorry, Ivan. Your father and I did the best we could for tonight. But maybe tomorrow we'll be able to get supplies for a dessert. A cake?" Catherine explained. She saw the same look of disappointment her husband wore cross their son's face. Every night it remained the same. Ivan asking about a sweet dessert, only to be told the same thing again and again: _maybe another night_.

Kristofer watched his family around the table. Little Alexis, giggling as Wanda entertained her. Ivan, somewhat upset but not entirely devastated over their dessert-less state. And Aeva, smirking still but covering her ears as much as she could despite being in the safety of their home. But her smirking over what was something he knew he would never figure out. Kristofer only hoped it was over someone treating her kindly.He sighed and forced a smile on his face. "Well, I'm starving. Light, thank you for this meal tonight. May we stay well-fed in the days to come. Now dig in, you little vultures!"

All the children giggled and chuckled and dug into their food. Only Catherine and he didn't immediately dig in, instead gingerly picking at the vegetables and rabbit floating around in the broth. He glanced around the table again. The same sight as a moment ago. Kristofer half expected the mood to change with a snap of his fingers. But he knew he'd have to bring up leaving Alterac. 

Kristofer knew he might as well get it out of the way. _Children, what do you think of abandoning Alterac? Do you all want to settle in Lordaeron? Would you want to travel to Lordaeron?_ he thought, mulling over what he would say. _Don't do any of that. All the kids are smart, smarter than you think. Stop forgetting that. Just say it._

"So… your mother and I were puzzling out what you guys would think if I were to train as a paladin in Lordaeron," he began. 

Immediately Aeva's eyes widened. Ever since news came about these priests and warriors becoming something more, these paladins, she had been enamored with it all. "Wait, did the king say yes?" Aeva blurted.

Catherine smacked her palm flat on the table, making a noise loud enough to startle little Alexis. "Aeva!" she hissed through gritted teeth. "Wait for your father to finish!"

Aeva leaned back in her seat with a resigned expression. She threw her gaze back down to her stew. She stole a glance up at her mother, just to see if she'd still be angry at her. Instead Aeva saw her father glaring daggers in her mother's direction. 

"Now, Cat, don't be angry with her. Aeva's only curious. I didn't really tell you about that, either. You all want to hear how it went?" Kristofer asked the assembled family.

All of them nodded their heads, the exception being Alexis, who stared at her father with eyes as wide as dinner plates. Two years of age, but still not speaking or communicating other than her facial expressions. Or unless Wanda was speaking to her.

"Good! The king said yes, but on the condition that I represent Alterac and wear our colors. He says it would show the other nations we're stronger than we seem," Kristofer stated. "But there's only one issue, and I don't know if I should accept this offer. We would have to travel to Lordaeron and stay there for a time while I did this. What do you kids say?"

Wanda turned to Alexis as she stared curiously at their father. "You wanna go to Lordaeron? It's warmer there," Wanda pointed out. Alexis didn't care much for the sound of it, crossing her arms and shaking her head back and forth. "That's Alexis's answer, Da."

Kristofer could only chuckle at the little girl. "Thank you, dearest," he said to Alexis. He turned to look at his son, who was currently shoveling his mouth full of food. Kristofer turned to the other two girls while he waited for Ivan to finish. "What's your word, girls?"

Wanda nodded her head once. She glanced over at Aeva, who stared down at the table still. Wanda sighed and nudged her younger sister. Aeva's head whipped up in surprise, her gaze settling on their father. "If we go, teach me how to fight!" she demanded. 

Catherine's eyes grew ablaze with fury. Before Kristofer could respond she cut in. "No daughter of mine will learn how to handle weapons! You are a lady, and you will act like one. Aeva Petrovsky, I don't want to hear another peep out of you about this!"

Aeva glared back. Eight years old and already beginning to fight back against what their mother wanted. "You let Wanda do that all the time, though! She can shoot a bow and handle a dagger! Why can't I--"

"Look in the mirror and you will see why. Now finish your supper. If you don't finish it you can handle all the morning chores. And go to your room afterwards," Catherine spat. Tears welled up in Aeva's eyes as she jumped out of her seat, running off to her bedroom.

Kristofer gave Ivan and Wanda a look. They shoveled the rest of their dinners into their mouths and left with Alexis in Ivan's arms. Kristofer waited until all of the children were well away from their small table. He slowly turned his eyes on Catherine to glare at her. Slamming his hand down on the table, he drew her attention to him. "What the hell is your problem? They're not even my children and I treat them better than you. So tell me now, why _can't_ Aeva train with me?" he demanded.

Catherine, barely having noticed his glowering, now shrank under his gaze. "I just don't want her learning those things," she clipped. She watched as Kristofer gave her a look full of disbelief. 

"Is there something you want to tell me? About her father, perhaps?" Kristofer spat. 

Catherine coughed once and met his gaze, her hands trembling the entire time. "She's a half-elven bastard. You and I are both aware of how it makes her an outcast. Do you think anyone in their right mind would take her seriously? And if she were fighting? She's too fragile. It's that elven blood, I tell you."

Kristofer laughed, a forced, harsh, and grating one. "Wow. I can't believe you. I served with good elves in the war. They were thousands of times better than you." He sighed, thinking of what else to say. It didn't help that Catherine watched him like a hawk. Especially now, as he thought out his words. Kristofer eventually shrugged in defeat. 

"What," Catherine hissed through clenched teeth.

"The children are coming with me to Lordaeron. You're not, Cat. Not after what you said tonight." Kristofer shot her one last glare and turned to climb the staircase to their bedroom.

As he took the steps two at a time, Catherine could hear him calling for the children. After that she heard next to nothing. Only the mumbles and faint giggles of some of the girls alerted her to them conversing with one another. Catherine groaned and chased up the steps to find Kristofer. She would have to apologize, whether she liked it or not. And Catherine didn’t like it.

Kristofer was wrapping up whatever he told the kids and ushered them all into their beds. Turning out of the girls’ room, he caught sight of Catherine and glared. “Coming up to cause more problems? Or are you going to actually apologize and admit your narrow-minded view of what you’d said earlier to _your_ daughter?” he hissed under his breath.

Catherine stared at him blankly, swallowing her pride. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have said what I did. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up tomorrow. How soon do we leave for Lordaeron?”

Kristofer shrugged as he moved towards their bedroom. “Dunno. Guess you’ll find out.”

Catherine turned away and descended the steps. She pulled out some spare linens they kept in case of emergencies and made herself comfortable on their small couch in the family room. She would pack her belongings early tomorrow, just so Kristofer wouldn’t depart without her. She would not let herself be shut out of this family. Catherine planned on staying.


	2. Gilneas

Gilneas was flooded with a never ending torrent of rain. Thunder crackled as lightning flashed through the skies and clouds, illuminating the houses in the port town faster than one could blink. Some still moseyed about the place. It was these few going about their daily routines like the heavens didn't clash above them that kept any sense of normalcy in Keel Harbor. 

Those still outside ignored the pounding against one of the heavy wooden doors. All dismissed it as some poor drunken sod fighting with his wife. While they pretended they heard nothing, the pounding against the door grew louder. Not in any sort of pattern or a steady crescendo, but more erratic. Unplanned. Sudden. 

A small boy, no more than ten years old came crashing through the door. He sprawled out on the soaked, hard cobbled streets of Keel Harbor. He glared up at a large man who sported a thick and bushy beard of fiery red. "Don't you _ever_ do any of that nonsense! Do you remember what happened to your aunt in Stormwind? And I catch you dabbling in it? _Never. Come. Here. **AGAIN!**_" the man screeched.

"Dah, no! He didn't know, he didn't!" another boy, only about thirteen, insisted. This youth shared the man's same fiery red hair, but already sported a hard-set look to his face. 

The man turned his glower to the older boy. "You want to defend him, Hugin? You think anyone who dabbles in demons doesn't know what they're doing? Damned fool, and too soft, just like your mother!" the man spat at the boy called Hugin.

Hugin growled at his father, clearly well on his way to being intoxicated. His father heard. "You really want to try that on me, boy? I can throw you in a cell tomorrow. Now get inside. Zachariah can come back in when he stops dealing with demons," his father spat. 

Reluctantly, Hugin followed his father in. He stole one last look at his little brother, apologizing silently with his eyes. Tears welled in Zachariah's eyes. Hugin saw, despite his brother's attempts at trying to hide it from anyone's view. 

Once he crossed the threshold, the door slammed shut. A woman peeled her concentrated gaze off the piece she was sewing together. "Don't leave him out there all night, dear. Please, Jacob."

Hugin's father shook his head. "I won't, Rose. Don't worry about it." His whole demeanor had changed. Shifted, like the legends of old where humans could simply become a beast. Hugin wondered if his father secretly was one of them. But he doubted it. Those were only stories, and their family knew those such stories didn’t exist upon Azeroth for some time now.

“Where’s Astrid?” Hugin mumbled. His mother barely caught the question in time to give him a curious look, while his father altogether ignored it. Jacob already moved on to his bedroom to change into something more befitting their household. A simple bathrobe and briefs with warm, woolen socks. Hugin had an outfit for around the house almost exactly like it. Except he had a knitted shirt, something from his grandmother a couple of birthdays ago. 

Rose waited until Jacob had left the room. “Your sister is probably in the basement. Maybe in town entertaining some ragamuffin children. You know how she is, though I wish she’d be more of a lady.”

Hugin nodded. “Probably the town with the children. She likes helping them,” he responded. “I’ll go into town and check.” He glanced at his mother to await her approval. Rose nodded once, which dismissed Hugin through the front door and into the town to find his sister.

He wandered through the streets, keeping an eye out for both siblings. He worried that Zachariah would run away again. Possibly do it for good this time. Their father became more and more violent as the days dragged by. So far, though, they were still all together. Which became a win in Hugin’s book. 

As the people meandered by, Hugin ducked down alleys and back streets to find where his sister had run off to. So far, nothing. All he spotted involved some homeless, merchants, nobles, or some odd combination of one of the three. Hugin groaned and continued his search. The last few times he’d done this he knew it to be pointless. Astrid would appear when she wanted to.

“Astrid! Astrid, Ma’s calling for us!” Hugin cried through the alleys and streets. He caught a few disdainful looks from a priest or a guard here and there. He debated throwing up a rude gesture at them, but ultimately decided a couple of hours in the jailor’s rooms would not be the best thing to appear back home with. He ignored them and continued his search.

Within a few more minutes, Hugin paused next to the orphanage nearby the Merchant’s Square. He never understood why it would be located there, instead of Greymane Court or the Cathedral Quarter, perhaps. Hugin opened his mouth one last time to call for his sister. Afterwards, he’d return home. 

Opening his mouth, he soon found it cut off. Not by a hand, but instead by his little sister’s appearance. “Hi, Hugh! Whatcha need?” Astrid questioned, a broad, gap-toothed smile on her face. Recently one of her front teeth had fallen out, leaving just the opening. “I was here with the orphans and playing with them and also learning my letters and my numbers and--”

“Ma’s wanting us. Da just threw Zacky out again,” Hugin deadpanned. He had a blank look on his face and a distance in his eyes. Astrid’s smile fell. “We need to get home soon. Ma’s already upset with everything happening right now.” 

Astrid nodded once. “Okay. I told them all I’d be back soon but not exactly when. D’you wanna go over now and get something ready for Zacky?” she asked.

In response, Hugin agreed with her. “‘Course I do, you rabid fox. And what else is soon?” He would try to lift her spirits. Any time a quarrel broke out between father and son, or father and anyone, really, it would snuff a light out inside Astrid. Hugin had since become determined to keep that light in her.

“My birthday?” Astrid responded. Hugin flashed her a quick smirk, which only confirmed her curiosity. She wanted to pester him about what he planned on gifting her. Or, a better question, what their grandmother planned on gifting her. Astrid knew their grandmother gave the best gifts to the lot of them.

Astrid darted ahead of Hugin as they wandered through the streets to return home. The rain had let up, leaving the clouds behind. Hugin strode after her while dodging puddles. He nearly slipped a few times on the trek back home, but ultimately regained his balance as he tried to catch up with his sister.

By the time the reached the way to Keel, Hugin found himself huffing for breath. “Holy Light, girl. Slow down! I can barely keep up with you the way that you go running!” he grunted out. Hugin looked up to see Astrid laughing and giggling.

She paused for a moment to glance back at Hugin before running towards their home again. Hugin groaned, cursing himself for not being as athletic as his sister. He struggled to catch up with her, eventually losing sight of where she’d gone off to. Hugin sighed and sat down against a wall guarding the road.

He sat for a moment, only to catch his breath. Astrid could find her way home. She’d done so plenty of times before, much to the anger and chagrin of both parents. Hugin watched the occasional traveler or horse rider pass by before he felt ready and prepared to run after his sister once more.

Hugin stood and glanced down the roads. Clear, no one coming and no one to see him. He began at a jog before the galloping of horse’s hooves. “_Clear the way! Clear the way NOW!_” the man on horseback screeched. Hugin ran faster, before finally jumping to the side to avoid being trampled underfoot.

The man on horseback was dressed in a soldier’s garb, from what he could tell. Whatever was happening, Hugin hadn’t any clue. He stared in awe at the soldier almost flying down the cobbled path. Hugin began to sprint, faster than he thought he could, towards their home in Keel. His father would want to hear about what he’d seen.

~~~~~

“Hugin! Hugin!” Astrid screamed from the doorway once he reached the Harbor town. Astrid ran out from where she stood, leaving the door to their house wide open. Hugin winced. Their father would not be pleased at that. The man hated the cold winds blowing into their home. It would put out the fireplace.

Astrid barrelled into Hugin, almost knocking him to the ground. He staggered to keep from falling to the ground. “What’s the matter?” he asked.

Hugin studied his little sister’s face. Worry, fear, and some panic, he noted. What could have her so scared, though? Nothing had happened. Nothing major, at least, and Zachariah should have returned home by this point. “Astrid, what’s wrong? I don’t know what happened because you ran off without me,” he rephrased.

“Zacky isn’t back. Da’s not home, either,” Astrid whimpered. 

Hugin’s brow furrowed with concern. He gave her a quick pat on the back before taking off to find their mother. When he entered, he saw his mother busying herself by tidying up this, that, or the other inside their small home. “Ma, where’re they at? Da and Zacky?” Hugin wondered aloud, despite directly calling for their mother.

Rose sighed and put down a worn rag she used to clean their home. “Zachariah hasn’t come home yet. Your Da said he’d look but then a soldier came to the door, said he was needed for some reason involving us and the other nations. ‘All able-bodied men’, this soldier said.” Rose sounded defeated, like she had given up any hope of trying to fight what was happening.

“But… the war. I thought it was over? It was supposed to be over by the time I was walking around,” Hugin argued.

Rose shook her head. “I’ve heard rumors of war and more fighting from Alterac and Lordaeron. A friend of mine left here some time ago. She’s sent me a letter of what is transpiring outside of Gilneas.” 

“What is it, then? What’s happening outside of the kingdom?” Hugin pressured.

“Orcs are returning. And your father’s been called to war, and now your brother has gone missing. I kept telling him to stop kicking your brother around. I warned him this would happen!” Rose wailed, tears welling in her eyes.

Hugin rushed forward and hugged his mother tightly. He didn’t know what else he could do, other than go out to search for Zachariah. But he could be anywhere at this point. After going to find Astrid, Zacky had all the time in the world to get away from this area. Rose reached up a hand and rested it on his shoulder.

They stayed that way for a few minutes before Rose stood up. She made her way to their small kitchen to prepare some supper for them. Astrid helped out here and there until Rose shooed her away. Hugin watched it all happen. Their mother needed some space. She would get this way any time something involving Zachariah and Jacob happened. 

Hugin seated himself next to the fire, poking and prodding at the logs here and there. Astrid soon joined him. She watched as he poked here, poked there, and pretended to not pay attention to everything happening.

Suddenly, Hugin spoke. “Astrid, you wanna start making a quick silver with me? Odd jobs and the like?”

“Why, though?” she asked, unsure of why he mentioned this.

Hugin shrugged, continuing his poking of the fire. He glanced over at the stack of firewood, now small and barely existent. They would need to get wood soon. That way they could keep up having the stews Astrid loved. “Because Da’s gone and Zachariah’s run away somewhere else. We’ll need the money to keep on going.”

Astrid nodded slowly and considered the options. “Hm….” she hummed quietly. Astrid glanced over at her brother, then into the kitchen where their mother stood preparing something for the lot of them. “Yes. I can steal!” she exclaimed, face lighting up.

“No, we’re not doing that. Let’s do something that’s needed. Like taking care of orphans or the like,” he stated.

Astrid nodded. “When can I do that?” she asked. 

“After dinner. I’ll tell Ma, just go early in the morning or so.”

Hugin turned to see if his sister agreed. She nodded once, the only confirmation he needed that they would do what they could to get by now. “Let’s get dinner. We’ll plan this all out as we go forward.”


	3. Lordaeron and the City of Magi

Ivan said his farewells to his friends, and soon enough they began their trip to Lordaeron. It would be long, he knew, and his sisters would most likely be mouthy about it the entire time. Though the trek might be nothing but a few days, he didn’t look forward to it. And neither did Aeva, from what he could tell. 

Aeva stood off to the side, doing her best to hide that slight point in her ears. Always so self-conscious. She hated people noticing it, commenting on it. She just wanted to be somewhat normal. There were hardly any others of her descent, and if she ever met one she might feel a bit less… alone. Yes, she had her sister, but her sister was lucky. Her sister didn’t look too much like Aeva did. Too elven. 

Granted, Alexis was still only a toddler. And Aeva had six years on her, which only made it worse for her. She looked like the misfit amongst their family. Hopefully in time her hair would cover up those points on her ears. 

And so she fretted over it their entire trek. 

All the way through until they finally settled, just on the outskirts of Brill. Alexis grew, and so did everyone else. Hardly a thing happened in the years since they’d left Alterac. The passage of time felt slow, dragging. Each day turned into a routine, until Ivan, suddenly, departed. 

He left quietly, consulting only his sisters before departing. All of his sisters, that is, except for Alexis. Ivan knew she was still too young to understand why or for what reason he would be leaving. All he could really say for sure is that he had been stuck in Brill for too long. 

On the night of his departure, Ivan snuck into the room the girls shared and awoke Wanda and Aeva. He gently prodded them awake. He did so carefully, just in case they accidentally woke up Alexis. After five years, he determined now would be the time to leave. But not before explaining to his family.

“Wanda, Aeva, get up. Come downstairs once you’re fully awake,” Ivan whispered. His sisters grumbled quietly, both clearly annoyed at being disturbed from their rest. Ivan made his way out, and down their creaky stairwell. He stepped this way and that, for the wooden boards groaned, heaving out great sighs in their age. This was most likely due to everything in Lordaeron being older than Alterac ever was.

Eventually, Wanda and Aeva found themselves both sitting in their family room. “What is it now, Ivan?” Wanda demanded through clenched teeth. Her teeth chattered as she hugged a quilt closer to her and her sister. It would never be as cold as Alterac, but the cold still remained unbearable.

Ivan held back a cough, muffling it in his shirt when it eventually escaped. “I’m departing to Dalaran. Brill holds nothing for me, and you know about my talents. But I’m leaving tonight. I wanted you to know, and if Ma or Da ask, just tell them what I told you. Or don’t.”

“But what about Alexis?” Aeva questioned. “Why not tell her as well? She’ll miss you.” She saw Ivan consider, just for the slightest of moments, staying. Long enough for Alexis to understand, perhaps, that he had to leave. But that consideration soon fled. It left Aeva staring at him, crestfallen.

He shook his head. “I can’t. I need to leave now, otherwise Ma will never let me leave. Da would. But you’ve seen them fight. I promise you, both of you, it’s going to stop at some point.”

Wanda stared at him, confusion and anger etched all over her face. “What’s wrong with you, Ivan?” she demanded. The cold, icy tone of her voice made Ivan flinch, barely. 

“I love you both. And make sure Alexis knows I love her, too.” His voice became quiet as he uttered the words. Ivan glanced between the two of them and sighed, pushing himself to his feet. Strange, though, that to him his entire body felt numb as he moved for the door. Behind him he could hear both sisters getting up to return to their beds. 

The lock on the door jingled as he used the spare key to unlock it. The spare key his parents gave him. A sword, a simple one Ivan made with his father, hung off his waist. Cold wind hit him as soon as the door opened. Ivan slipped out as fast as he could, relocking the door behind him. He bent down and moved a nearby rock. Ivan replaced the spare key to its original spot.

~~~~~

When morning came, Wanda sped off to meet some merchant’s boy in the bustling Capital City. Cat knew her daughter also hoped for a glimpse of the young Crown Prince. All of the young girls did, and so all of them would try to make a stop in Capital City as often as they could. Cat knew no other girl aside from the young Lady Proudmoore would ever be able to curry his favor and win his heart.

Cat woke Aeva, pulling her to the Capital City marketplace. The bells rang gaily and jovially to announce the end of worship. Every so often those bells would make their great clamor heard, crying out to everyone the arrival of the Menethils. King Terenas would make rounds daily, but rarely ever would he do so with his family. 

“Look, Aeva. The Menethils should be appearing soon, but don’t stare for so long when they do,” Cat whispered to her daughter. Aeva only rolled her eyes, still thinking of the previous night. So far neither one of their parents had said anything about the disappearance of Ivan. Kristofer would refuse to. He always did. Cat, however, was unpredictable. 

Aeva shrugged off her mother’s words and continued to peruse the marketplace. She remained close by but let her eyes wander, instead of staring and watching the Menethils as almost everyone seemed to do on days like this. Aeva studied what she could in the market while her mother fawned over the royal family. They were only people. 

But thankfully, it did not last long. None of it really did. Since Ivan had just left, she had a good feeling that the days would simply wander by whilst she watched it on the sidelines. Aeva would suffer it for her brother’s sake. 

~~~~~

Enough days had passed to where Alexis saw her ninth, but Ivan had to miss it. Now officially apprenticed to the magi in Dalaran, Ivan was forced to stay there and study more. He would do anything it took to climb the ranks. In some correspondence between him and his sisters, he promised them he would do as much as he could. 

He continued to receive and write the letters his sisters and father would write him, each one wildly different from start to finish. At least he knew that in their home nothing changed. Their mother was, as Aeva put it at one point, “still a colossal bitch”, and their father kept trying to play the mediator.

Ivan read through the latest letter from his sisters, this one also co-written by their father as well. The contents of it brought a tear to his eye. Eventually, it did bring an almost-smile to his face.

_Ivan,___

_ _ _Wanda, Aeva, and Kristofer are helping with this. It’s Alexis, in case you didn’t know. The Menethils have been making more appearances and Prince Arthas was just knighted! He’s an official Paladin of the Silver Hand now. The Lord Uther, the Lightbringer, is still following him around though. I don’t understand that too well. By the way, everyone is writing their own little update for you, too. _ __

__

_ _ _Big brother, this is your best sister. Your favorite. Wanda. You know, dashingly beautiful and still winning boys over like a summer cherry pie wins flies? You get it. I’ve met a merchant man. The Rowings family, their boy. You remember playing with him and practicing your “sword fighting” with sticks when we just arrived in Brill? Well, we grew close. If we’re to marry someday, we want to know when you’ll be back. So you can be in the wedding, and bear the rings for us. I love you, brother. _ __

_ __ _

_ _ _Mother kicked me out. She caught me with another girl. She keeps trying to find a suitor for me but I don’t want that. It isn’t her choice. We were at the market one day and she lost me on purpose, tried to find a way away from me and strand me there. It was… not an enjoyable moment. Kristofer came to help me, but now we’re trying to find a way to get me away from her as often as possible. If you know any solutions, now would be a good time to tell me. Sincerely, Aeva. _ __

_ _ __ _ _

_ _ _Ivan, my son, Cat is not the mother you remember. She has an iron grip on the household and keeps insisting that we leave soon. But this time, I fear I agree when I say we must leave soon. Something is wrong. You’ve already heard the mutterings, I know you have. So take your time returning home. Be safe, my boy. _ __

_ _ _ __ _ _ _

_ _ _Your loving family. _ __

_ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _

_ _Ivan closed the letter and pushed the chair of his desk in. Despite having a smaller room than most apprentices, he had enough space when it came down to it. He opened the door and peeked down the hallway. The apprentices’ quarters were adjacent to the Violet Citadel, where most of the senior magi and mentors presided. He hurriedly rushed out to enter the citadel._ _

_ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _

_ _He left the door of the apprentices’ quarters slightly ajar, watching the roads. He had lessons early in the morning, but despite the moon rising high over the walls of the city, carried on. Some Violet guards stood at the sides of the doors. They moved to bar Ivan's entry, but saw the troubled expression and apprentice’s robes he donned._ _

_ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _

_ _Ivan made his way up the stairs and into the main floor of the great citadel. He could not conjure portals yet, but instead sent a small bubble of arcane to his master’s room. _ _

_ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _

_ _Soon enough, his mentor joined him in the foyer._ _

_ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _

_ _“Yes, Ivan? What calls you down so late?” the high elf asked. His gaze was sharp, much like Ivan’s half-elven sisters. The pensive look in his master’s eye gave him all the warning he needed. _ _

_ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _

_ _Ivan cleared his throat. “I… mean no disrespect for waking you so late--”_ _

_ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _

_ _“Nonsense! You know I don’t rest like I should. Even if Antonidas, Krasus, and the others complain, I won’t do it.” The elf waved Ivan on._ _

_ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _

_ _“My father just sent me a letter. He’s telling me to take my time in returning home, that I should be wary of coming back to Lordaeron. Is there something happening that I don’t know, or that I should avoid?” Ivan asked, worry etched on his face. “I need to know, Master Leorron.”_ _

_ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _

_ _The elf furrowed his brow, stark white hair escaping the side pony it was in and obscuring vision in his right eye. “There are… whisperings, my boy. You recall the wizard Kel’thuzad?” He paused, looking to Ivan, who nodded once. “He left Dalaran, and the rumor is he was ousted due to practicing necromancy. They say a new ailment has gripped the north of Lordaeron, and that the people in the area are slowly beginning to fall ill to it. Nothing so far has happened. I believe it’s just a new stomach ache.”_ _

_ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _

_ _“But how would you know? Master Leorron, I don’t recall you having knowledge of--”_ _

_ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _

_ _“You forget yourself. I am a high elf of Quel’thalas, and I make it my business to know things. I studied some of the priestly ways, a few martial weapons, and I am known in the kingdom to deliver findings to my King, Anasterian. I have studied ailments of many kinds, my boy. You best not let that slip from your head.”_ _

_ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _

_ _Ivan bowed his head. “I am sorry. But do you think I should heed my father’s warnings? I want to visit my family sometime, but I don’t know if I should sooner or later.”_ _

_ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _

_ _Leorron stroked the goatee at his chin, which gradually turned into a beard. An unkempt one, but a beard nonetheless. “It is up to you, personally. If you’re asking what I would do, I would stay, learn a bit more while I can. Be more cautious rather than reckless and obeying every whim.”_ _

_ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _

_ _Ivan nodded again. “I… I see. I’ll stay here, then, I guess. Better to be safe than sorry?” he wondered aloud. _ _

_ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _

_ _Leorron grinned at him. “Absolutely, Ivan. Now go, rest. You’ve much to do in the morning and I don’t need whispers of petty stomachaches troubling you come the morning. Before you ask, yes, eat a meal in the morning. You’ll need the energy.”_ _

_ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _

_ _Leorron sent the young man off to the apprentices’ quarters before he teleported to his quarters on the upper levels of the citadel. He made his way to the window, watching Ivan stride with a more confident step back to his quarters. The young man reminded him too much of the woman he met once, while traveling through Alterac some years ago._ _

_ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _

_ _Ivan had the same broad face as her, the same silky, shining hair. Perhaps he knew this woman, or was related to her in some way. But Leorron would not dwell on it too long. _ _

_ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _

_ _He returned to his desk, reading through all of the different missives sent from Prince Kael’thas and King Anasterian. Even some from King Terenas as well. All related to the new illness popping up throughout Lordaeron. The high elves required confirmation on if it would reach their borders, if it was potentially deadly to the elves themselves. Terenas asked for aid in the form of priests and perhaps sorcerers. _ _

_ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _

_ _Leorron’s eyes fell on the concerning bit of it, already having reported deaths from this new and mysterious virus. His stomach fell. He would need to keep Ivan in Dalaran for just a while longer. Just to be safe, he told himself. Just to be safe._ _

_ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _


	4. Gilneas

“Hear, hear! Lordaeron calls upon aid! Whisperings of plague and sickness grip our sister-nation! King Terenas once again calls upon the great kingdom of Gilneas for aid and demands Greymane reopen the kingdom!” 

“Lordaeron is gripped in fear! An unknown illness has the nation in the clutches of fear! King Menethil calls upon his son and the great Uther Lightbringer to cleanse their nation of this mysterious threat!”

Hugin wandered the streets of Gilneas City listening to the criers yell out the news. It had been years since he’d seen his little brother. Now, a man of one and twenty, he could only hope that Zachariah had been able to find shelter. Still he found himself searching every chance he could for his brother. 

He found his way into a pub while searching his thoughts. The man behind the counter began a glass for Hugin. He’d been in here enough times that the pubmaster knew his regular order. Unfortunately. Hugin drank the glass of ale without even registering what he was doing. He never stayed long enough or drank enough to become one of the sods that were there day in and day out. 

A girl around his sister’s age showed up next to him. “You look like you’re having it rough. What’s the matter? Need a different pick-me-up? Name’s Tristain. I ca--”

“Hush. How old are you?” Hugin interjected.

Tristain eyed him suspiciously. “Fifteen… why?”

Hugin gave her what his mother called the stink eye. “Last name?” 

“Hammynd…” 

His eyes widened. “Have you seen my brother? He’s about seventeen. Should have some black hair, green eyes, kinda an idiot. His name’s Zachariah Bishopp.” 

Tristain shook her head slowly. The name Bishopp brought back some faint memories of what happened to her family, but she paid it no mind. It wasn't uncommon to encounter a few. But it couldn't be Emric Bishopp's family. Her grandparents had warned her to watch out for those Bishopps. They said all of those ones were just pawns of King Greymane. “Look, I’m just here trying to offer you a helpful job that could possibly most certainly get you an extra couple of coppers under your belt. It’s a take it or leave it sort of deal I’ve got, and I’m trying to feed my own brother.”

“What’s… what’s in it for me?” Hugin asked, now interested in what this girl could offer him in the ways of a job. Certainly nothing within the grounds of the law, but he would take whatever he could these days. After Zachariah ran off, his family had been left with nothing.

Tristain beckoned for him to follow her. Hugin quickly dug out a few copper pieces and left them on the counter for the pubmaster to grab. He would know who left it. Hugin chased after her, unable to properly navigate and nimbly avoid the crowded pub as she could.

She ducked into the alleys, weaving between the poor, the downtrodden, and forgotten of Gilneas. Occasionally there would be a guardsman patrolling, almost all of whom Hugin knew on a personal level. He pulled his traveller’s cloak up over his head to avoid being identified. His father would not be pleased to hear his only remaining son was roaming the alleyways and dark corridors of the city.

Hugin broke into a sprint to try following Tristain more efficiently. When he almost caught up with her, she seemingly vanished around one of the buildings. Hugin sprinted up to where she disappeared to but didn’t spot her in any of the directions he looked. Only the doors to some stores and houses stood in front of him.

He stood lost, alone, and confused in a corner of the Merchant’s Square he never knew existed. Not even an area his father might have known existed. 

“Lost? Are ya? Was I right?” Tristain excitedly began to ask. “How’re ya liking home?”

Hugin looked at her, wide-eyed and in shock. “D’you not have a home?” he asked aloud, not realizing for a moment that he’d vocalized his thoughts. 

Tristain looked as if he’d slapped her across the face. Hugin winced, reaching out to give her a quick pat on the shoulder. Instead he squeezed, almost a little bit too hard. He could see the twitch of pain on her face that she tried to mask. “This is home.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anythin’ by it. Do you need one? I have someplace for m’self,” Hugin offered. Tristain shrugged off his hand and offer. She glumly led him through the door to let him see where she lived. 

Hugin couldn’t believe it. Absolute squalor. Children, not even of age to be remotely considered an adult, were stuck living down in one of the shitholes of Gilneas City. In their slums. His eyes were wide, he could feel it. How in the world had this even come to be? He opened his mouth to say something, yet nothing came out except for some half-attempted, halfhearted croak that could be translated into pure shock.

“Orphans. We’ve gotta stick together and do… something. I guess,” Tristain explained. Together, they looked over some of the huddled masses. “What about you?”

Hugin began to search frantically amongst the faces. Any dark-haired youths with a stubborn set to their face, no matter what expression they wore. His eyes landed on one boy. The boy was curled up into a ball, horrifically scrawny to the point of what looked only like starvation. Hugin made his way over to the boy as carefully as he could. Hope fluttered in his chest. Maybe he’d finally find his brother again. 

He reached out, gently placing a hand on the youth’s shoulder. The boy turned and glared at him. Messy chestnut hair brushed his eyelashes, and the anger in his eyes was unmistakable. “What do you want, creep?” the boy demanded.

“I… are you alright?” Hugin replied.

Another glare. “What’s it look like? What’s it look like all of us are down here? Maybe do something better, and actually try to help.”

Hugin turned away, apologizing under his breath. Tristain came up to him and clapped his back. “Sorry about my brother. Verik hasn’t been that nice since we lost our gramma.”

“Dare I ask what happened?” Hugin queried. 

Tristain waved him over to a different corner. Two small, ruddy chairs sat over here. Clearly, they had been well-used and worn in for quite some time. Hugin stole another glance around the room while Tristain became situated in her seat. She snapped her fingers once, which drew Hugin’s attention back, and he realized he’d accidentally begun staring again.

“Well. Our gramma, Millicent Hammynd, just lost our estate,” Tristain explained. Hugin’s eyes went wide again. “_Not_ that kind. Nothing noble. Nothing fancy. We had a lot of farm. And a lot of land for farm. But our parents got into some trouble. And they fought back. The damn guard captain, he didn’t even think. He skewered our Father and he shot Mum clean through the heart.

“Gramma Millie found out. And so she took us in. But Grandad Jackson didn’t really know what to do. So he and Gramma got involved in some, uh… crime. Lots of it. And we really had no idea. But Gramma, long story short. Sorry. She’s gone. Her and Grandad have disappeared and so they lost their estate because of it. So we’re two-time orphans. I guess.”

Hugin had no idea what he was doing until he did it. He reached out his hand as a show of good faith, offering it for her. “I can’t exactly say my life is worse. Or better. Just… mediocre. My sister and I just wanna find our little brother.”

Tristain nodded in understanding. “What’s his name? Maybe we’ve run into him a few times. Or, if we haven’t, we might just know someone who has.” 

“His name is Zachariah.” Tristain gave him a blank look. There were lots of Zachariahs in Gilneas, no matter where you went. Gilneas City had hundreds of them. Tempest’s Reach had two or three dozen. And Keel Harbor, Duskhaven, everywhere else in the nation, had at least half of that. 

Hugin sighed. His brother, if he was ever found, would hate him for this. “His first name is Emric. He’s Emric Zachariah Bishopp III. Our da’s da was the second. But he ran away--” 

Tristain’s ice cold glare shut him up. “Bishopp? Did you just say _Bishopp_? Are you one of them? Are you!” Tristain began to yell. Her voice grew, and grew, louder than he thought a young lady’s voice could go. “Jacob Bishopp killed my Father and Mum! And you want to know where their son--your _brother_\--is hiding!”

“What--I’m sorry! I had nothing to do. I didn’t know a thing. They’re dead to me. Dead! I swear. Please, I just need to find--” Hugin tried to fit his words in. Oh, how he tried. But he couldn’t. It was damn near impossible to fit in anything when all the other children began to stand and scream at him as well.

“I’m not letting you! No!” Tristain screeched.

Hugin felt himself being herded towards the exit. He struggled to utter even a squeak in the cacophonous rage. So many small, underfed hands and knuckles dug into his body. All around, he could feel them swarming him. 

He felt his feet go out from under him, and the cold, wet cobble and wood of the city meeting him. His hands were being speckled with small droplets of rain, and his foot was caught between a wooden guide and a gardenstone. He didn’t notice it until now, but that gardenstone noted this as their refuge. He wondered if they would keep it the same. 

Hugin untangled himself and turned, facing the door. A small pair of eyes glared daggers at him from a small, almost unseen, slit near the top of the door.

And the silence was deafening.


	5. Lordaeron

_Dearest Father,_

_I write to you today to let you know I am well. I’m waiting now for Aeva’s sixteenth, but my mentor, Master Leorron, wishes for me to stay. He fears that I may find myself back in Lordaeron for too long if I go. But he also wishes for me to finish my studies under him. I am unsure of what to do._

_He has taught me to make the basic portal. Conjure up the image of where you wish to go in your mind, and make it feel to yourself almost as if you’re looking through a window to see that place. Obviously, he does recommend portalling to somewhere that is more likely to protect the portal and not have it go awry._

_Please, though. Tell me more about what happens at home. I miss it. I want to hear about what’s happening in Capital City with the nobles and the Menethils. And if the dwarves are there! Is Alexis making the boys in Brill swoon over her? And has Aeva found another friend of hers to run off and have fun with? Give me all of the details. I need to know. Master Leorron says it’s good I have this hunger for information and knowledge._

_I may come home soon because of him. But… I may not. In the meanwhile, while I sort out those matters, I am curious. When is Wanda to wed this Rowings boy? And which Rowings is it, as I practiced swordplay with both. Adoras or Devram? My bets are on Devram. He’s far handsomer, and better at actually negotiating. Adoras is too much of a hothead._

_Save this bit for you and Aeva. Train her in the ways of the sword, then send her to the clergy. She can become a paladin, the same as Prince Arthas. She’ll enjoy it, I promise. And, one question for Ma…. Does she know my master, Leorron?_

_Safe tidings and much love,_

_Ivan_

Kristofer read the letter over and over again. He had no idea how he’d sneak this by Cat. She’d begun to control everything in the household. He could not hunt, he could not trade, could not buy, sell, or take his children anywhere without her knowing somehow. Whatever she had done, Kristofer did not like it.

But Cat was right when she said they needed to leave as soon as possible. She swore up and down a plague was coming, and that if they stayed, their family would be in the midst of the turmoil. 

It had been months since Ivan had written, and the winter frosts had disappeared, making way for springtime. The flowers were in bloom. Hope on the horizon. “Aeva….” Kristofer called out. He received no reply from his daughter. “Aeva! Come here!”

He still hadn’t mentioned this plan of Ivan’s to her. Soon enough, though, she came down in some of her brother’s old hand-me-downs. Cat would be _furious_ if she saw what her daughter wore. Old, torn breeches and an open shirt with a pair of rider’s boots to accompany them. Aeva looked almost the vision of some pirate. 

Her hair in a loose ponytail, she sauntered over to where Kristofer sat, and seated herself right across from him. She widened her legs, rested her elbows on her knees, and waited with a deadpan expression for him to speak. “Aeva, I hope your mother doesn’t catch you wearing that. I know Ivan gave it to you, but still.”

Aeva sighed. “I know, I know. Otherwise she’ll lose her mind again. But she’s gone right now. What’d you need?”

“Ivan’s last letter. I… didn’t read all of it. Out loud, at least.”

Aeva wondered what he meant by this. She narrowed her eyes, eyeing him suspiciously. She already stood almost at his head, and him keeping this from her certainly did not put him in her good graces. He wouldn’t worry too much, though. Aeva had only just seen her sixteenth summer. What would he do? Brush her aside?

“What’s it say, Da?” They both knew Kristofer was not her real father. And Cat would take whatever chance she could to rub it in their faces. But to Aeva, Kristofer was the man who raised her. He was the one to carry her around, play with her, cheer her up when the world brought her down. Kristofer had been more of a father to her than her and Alexis’s actual father. For all she knew, that man came through to use their mother as nothing more than a whore to cast away when he finished.

Kristofer cleared his throat before glancing around their small home. He feared what might happen if Cat were to find out. “So… you know how they are trying to train me to become one of their paladins, like Arthas, yes?”

Aeva nodded once.

“Okay. Good. Well, Ivan has suggested we train you. To be one of us. A member of the Order of the Silver Hand. Or whatever holy organization that may be out there.”

Aeva’s faced beamed. Excitement began to bubble within her. “So you can teach me! I can actually learn something other than whatever it is Ma wants. All she wants is for me to be some nobleman or trader’s little housewife pet.”

“I cannot teach you. I don’t know much myself. I can get you with someone who can, though. They seem to… tolerate me, I guess,” Kristofer explained. He could tell that Aeva’s hopes looked dashed in her eyes. How else would he get her out from under her mother’s iron strong grip.

Thankfully, he began to explain. “I know. It won’t be easy to really get you somewhere to train without Cat finding out. We can probably pass it off as you being some kind of an aspiring priestess of the Light. It won’t be what you expect, though, Aeva.”

“What will we tell Alexis and Wanda?” Aeva asked dismally.

“We tell Wanda the truth. She’ll understand. Alexis is, what, nine, ten years old?” Kristofer answered.

Aeva nodded slowly. “Something like that. I don’t think she even knows how old Ivan is. She’s happy spending time learning from Ma.” Aeva made to leave, but Kristofer stood up and grabbed hold of her arm. “What?” 

Kristofer guided her back down to the couch. “Aeva, please. Wait. One of the men I know, you could almost call him a master. Except, well, there are no such things as masters within the Order. He’s Alteraci, like--”

“Like you, Ivan, and Wanda. Ma’s a Gilnean, through and through. And Alexis and I grew up here. I may remember some of Alterac but the memory of it grows fuzzier every day I spend from where I was born. I want to go back. We could make it better!”

Kristofer couldn’t hold his tongue, instead almost lashing out at her. “There _is_ no Alterac anymore. There’s nothing left there for us except the burnt-out husk of what once was. How would we make it better? We’re common folk. I was a farmer before marrying your mother. And your mother is a seamstress!”

Aeva’s expression turned to a glare as she began to fight back. “And you were one of the best hunters in Alterac! You and some of the others you hunted with were able to feed the capital when the harvest was bad! We can make it better since I’m going to be a paladin now. And Ivan and Wanda--”

“Are following their own paths. Ivan is a mage of Dalaran. I have high hopes for him there. He has a raw talent. The boy’s on his way to becoming the next Archmage after Antonidas. And Wanda is getting married. She’s talked her way out of almost getting arrested, and she can handle a rifle and crossbow better than I ever could. She’ll be fine.

“But as for you, becoming a member of the Silver Hand is not set in stone. There are hardly any women so far who have dared to become a holy warrior. You’re welcome to be one of the first, but even still I cannot promise anything to you. I can only try.”

Aeva sighed, putting her head in her hands. “Who’s this man? And do you know for sure if he’d be willing to even consider training me?” Aeva replied.

“His name is Ser Gregory Lemfielde. He’s a disgraced nobleman. Well, the son of one. Which, in Alterac, makes you one as well. His father lost their fortunes and all the farmland they had for daring to challenge the Perenolde rule. So Lemfielde’s son, Gregory, joined the Order.” 

Her teeth clenched tightly. If she had to learn from one of her father’s instructors, she would. Kristofer spared no expense telling them about the sometimes grueling training that he’d be put through regularly. “Speak to them. I want to join.”

Within the next few days, Aeva found herself at the nearby Sanctum of the Silver Hand. She waited in the landing for someone to come to her, interrogate her as to why she inquired about joining their ranks. While the Sanctum was nothing more than a great chapel to the Holy Light, it still emitted an aura of otherworldliness. 

Soon enough a tall and imposing man with dark, jet black hair came out to see her. He had a full, bushy beard and eyes that twinkled like stars. “My lady, are you the young woman that Squire Petrovsky speaks of?” he queried.

Aeva nodded, barely coming up to his shoulders. “Yes, my lord. My name is--”

“Aeva Half-elven. I know you, because Kristofer speaks highly of you,” the man answered for her.

She shifted her weight uncomfortably, looking up at him to read his expression. So far, neutral. He revealed nothing to her. His face had only an eerily stoic disposition to it. “It’s Petrovsky, my lord. I was raised as one.”

The paladin chuckled, a low and rumbling sound. “I will call you by your true self. I am Ser Gregory Lemfielde, Kristofer’s mentor.”

Aeva’s eyes grew wide with awe. No wonder her father would ache and complain when he was with Lemfielde. The man stood larger than most everyone they knew. His height could be compared to the legendary night elves that the quel’dorei claimed to have some sort of relation to. Aeva would sometimes wonder if it meant she might claim relation to one of those mythical peoples. 

“Ser Lemfielde, my lord. I… I would like to learn from you. If you’ll have me. But I have a question to ask of you,” she blurted out, falling to kneel before the imposing paladin. 

Gregory motioned for her to stand up. “I will not have you ask on your knees. We are equals in the eyes of the Holy Light. What is it that you would ask of me?” 

Aeva cleared her throat, suddenly nervous. “Is there any way we could… not inform my mother? She just wants to marry me off, but I know that isn’t the life for me. Can we tell her you’re educating me in the Light? Or just that I have interest in being a priestess, or--”

“If it keeps you safe from harm, then I will keep my lips sealed, my lady. Now come, I wish to introduce you immediately,” he replied. Gregory rested a hand on her shoulder, guiding her into the great hall. 

She did not expect this many paladins to await her and educate her.

~~~~~

In the following months, the whispers of plague began to spiral out of control. Andorhal was reporting more and more illnesses than before.

_Ma,_

_It’s Ivan. I need to know. I don’t know if Da asked you this or not. But it’s been plaguing my thoughts at night. There are some questions that must be answered. Don’t let Da see this because I know the mere mentions of this are liable to set him alight._

_Is my teacher, Master Leorron, the true father of Aeva and Alexis? He looks at me as if he knows me from somewhere, from some past life. Why? Please, I need to know. I must put my thoughts to rest._

_And tell me. Are the rumors true about the illness that plagues Lordaeron? Is the King doing anything? Or the Order of the Silver Hand? There are still whispers in Dalaran. They grow stronger each passing day. With no news and updates of what goes on, we are left in the dark. Dalaran is a haven of knowledge and we lack this._

_Please. We must know._ I _must know._

_Your loving son, Ivan_


End file.
